


Good night

by elf_on_the_shelf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/pseuds/elf_on_the_shelf
Summary: Crowley realises what it feels like to be loved. He cannot cope with it.This is a drabble.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	Good night

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for one of the prompts on DIWS.  
> It is not particularly sBicy but then again it shouldn't be.  
> 

Crowley was laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

There was a crack on it, he realised and then immediately started thinking about it in great detail.

He had heard something like that at some point. That just after an immensely important shift in someone’s life people tended to focus on every-day stuff and pay a huge importance to those.

And if whatever had happened in the last couple of hours wasn’t life-altering he didn’t know what was.

They had been at the Ritz. That wasn’t a THING since they always went to the Ritz.

And then they toasted on champagne – which, again – not a thing.

And then, somehow, they had arrived back at the bookshop. Which was not altogether out of the ordinary either.

But then they moved upstairs for the first time ever.

If pressed upon the subject, Crowley would have plainly stated that he believed those stairs to arrive in a completely amorphous void, seeing as Aziraphale never had the urge to sleep, the need to bathe or the will to cook his own meals. So a flat atop the bookstore was an aberration in it of itself.

But apparently he was wrong.

Aziraphale very much had a flat there. And his sheets felt oddly familiar.

Maybe it was because they were the same Egyptian cotton ones as his own. Maybe because they were black – which was a shock and a half.

_Not to mention what happened after._

He was still eyeing the crack on the ceiling and avoiding glancing sideways for fear of what would spring out off his mouth without any previous prompting.

_I love you, angel. I’ve loved you for millennia. I cannot keep this to myself anymore. And why should I? You all but had your way with me not even five minutes ago. Actually had your way with me. Because whatever you wish for I will do. Whenever. However. Angel I…_

_No!_

He needed to get his head up from the gutter and to also shut the door on all of those love-stricken fantasies.

But then Aziraphale moved.

In the bed.

Next to him.

_Fuck!_

What in the nine circles of hell had he ever done wrong to deserve this?

Well, thwart the Apocalypse, of course….

_But other than that?_

He felt a warm palm cup his cheek and he had to remind himself that he didn’t necessarily need to breathe.

The hand brought his face to lean in sideways and look into baby-blue eyes that, aside the fact that they were the most beautiful things in existence, looked at him as if he was not a cursed broken thing. They almost looked at him in awe.

‘I… I mean… angel… I…’

‘I think that is enough excitement for the evening, darling,’ Aziraphale smiled at him with such sincerity that his insides all but melted.

‘Go to sleep, I know you must be fatigued. Good night, dearest. Let’s talk in the morning.’


End file.
